Decorative smiles on your lips
by Two-Cut
Summary: Thor's birthday ceremony is nearing, and with each passing day there goes Loki's sanity and patience. Everyone is too cheerful, and they all expect Loki as a brother to be the most enthusiastic about the celebration, which he is not. His mind in pieces and emotions in a mess, a desperate Loki resorts to extreme measures to get away from everything. /Brotherly Thorki


**Decorative Smiles On Your Lips**

**Warning: **Brotherly Thorki

* * *

A sleep deprived Loki was an unpleasant Loki. A sleep deprived Loki with his brother cheerfully throwing up his curtains and bidding him the sunniest good morning ever on the face of Asgard left the dark haired god in his foulest mood possible yet. It wasn't like Thor didn't care, he cared but it was rather like he didn't know that his pale skinned brother was not exactly in a civilized mood in the recent days.

In fact, Thor didn't have the faintest clue that Loki was trying very hard not to spring up from his heavy blankets to start strangling him immediately. Apparently while all of Asgard came to realize that the god of mischief was not someone with a personality that made you want to associate themselves with, Thor after all these years failed to see Loki as anything else than his sweet little innocent brother.

Oblivious to the fact that Loki was trying very hard not to snap at his brother with a collection of profanity, Thor went on chuckling heartily as he sat himself comfortably beside Loki's bedside and slapped his hand on the back of his brother's shoulders. The impact literally bent Loki forwards in an unexpected second, forcing the pale god's torso to bend into an awkward angle that seemed considerably uncomfortable.

"Up and shine little brother! The sun is hanging high and you are still in bed!"

When Loki restored his body angle back to his normal status, the pair of greens on his face came up with a mixed sensation of giving up and hopelessness. Loki had no strength left in him to reply with his usual stings and thorns; he spent most of his energy for the past week trying to avoid anyone that approached him with a goofy grin and plans for the golden celebration that was coming up in Asgard- which the god of mischief dearly hoped not to discuss with anyone.

The long awaited coming of age ceremony was entirely dedicated to Thor, his first birthday that deemed him a full adult, and Loki did care about how much the event meant for his brother. It was not like Loki didn't want to congratulate Thor, but frankly all the fuss was about to drive him mad when he was having issues with himself sorting out his feeling on whether he should feel entirely happy for his simple brother, or be annoyed at the complications it was bringing upon him. Finally Loki decided that right now what he needed was a moment alone, which seemingly the whole of Asgard was trying to deprive him of.

"Please, I will ask nicely Thor." Loki groans, his fingers massaging his aching temples. "Get you and your big red backside out of my room, with haste."

Thor took it as one of his brother's infamous morning grumpiness, almost everyone in Asgard was a subject to his dangerous morning slaughter for good atmosphere, sometimes resulting in a few maidens bursting into tears at Loki's smooth, polite, and gloriously offensive comments. So far Sif was the only maiden who endured the treatment, who in the past retaliated by landing a punch on Loki's face.

That was like, what, when they were pre teens? It was a long forgotten particle of his past, but Thor still remembered it as an event where Loki got his first double bloody nose. Remembering how rather cute Loki looked with a baffled expression and two bloody fountains running down his nose, Thor made an effort not to laugh out loud.

Loki shuffled in his bed, drowning out the headache with his pillow. His annoyance resonates with the thick flow of magic that was concentrated in his mind, Thor was by now used to the pitch black serpents that appears out of nowhere when his brother was in a particularly irritated mood. One reptile manages to coil itself around the thunder god's shoulders, its tongue hissing silently as if to reflect their conjurors feelings- Thor merely chuckles as he waves them away.

"Brother, I know you are in no good mood to get out of bed, but you will be late for the council."

At the mention of today's important schedule, the god of mischief groans at the memory. Lately he was forgetting a lot of things, but the council was something he was supposed to remember; now was a good time to think of an excuse to feed his father with for being late. Loki kicks away his blankets, causing a few random serpents to drop down from their comfortable nests they made in his bed.

To be very frank, Loki wished that all the things that were twisting inside him for the past few weeks were just a bad case of his morning grumpiness, with each passing day his patience line grows shorter, and now even the very mention of anything 'Thor', 'Birthday', 'Ceremony' was enough to piss him downright off.

Clawing under his bruised eyes gently, the pale man stares at the reflection on the other side of his bedroom walls with distant fatigue evident on his face. His eyes gave away little harmony, and being very honest the man staring back at him seemed total and utter shit. Loki didn't save anything when he expressed exactly what he thought: "I look like shit."

"No you do not!" blurted out an alarmed Thor who seemed like someone has just slapped him in the face, "You look beautiful as always brother!"

A skeptical pair of emerald green eyes replied with a dry frown at Thor's choice of words; however it was hard to spit at those sincere summer blue eyes of his godly brother, the god of puppy eyes.

Deciding to put his anger out on his pillow, Loki punches the squashy white cushion with a forced smile tight on his face. It now became a habit when he communed with Thor, for some reason he always noticed that his brother had problems talking to him when he wasn't smiling. Out of all the things the golden child of Asgard was capable of fearing, his worst fear was the cold face of his little brother.

Of course, Thor never said it aloud and Loki never hinted that he knew, but both brothers were already half sure that the other knew about the silent weakness. The silvertongue of Asgard was never a smiley person, he usually had that rather quirky and attentive stare on his face, brooding with thoughts and questions; only when required he would make the brightest and most convincing of smiles, and laugh when it was the time to. No one knew what went through his mind most of the time, only Heimdall was barely capable of making guesses at what he was up to most of the time.

People naturally learned after a period of time that it was better not to look too deeply into his twisted head, they kept their distance and managed not to agitate the mischief maker into doing anything that would result in utter destructive chaos.

"Thank you for reminding me Thor." The appreciative dialogue painted a smile on the golden haired man's face, his whole expression practically radiating with his usual shine. For a moment he just smiled, then suddenly attempted to look serious when he remembered something-

"Father has been worried about how you are so dark these days Loki. If anything is troubling you, you must tell me."

_Of course he would be, _Loki bit back the second voice in his head, _any potential threats that danger the proceedings of your grand coming of age party would of course worry father. _

The painful truth was that probably what he thought was true, Loki restrained himself from looking spiteful at his brother- every single part of his emotions were in pieces right now, and he wasn't even sure why he was feeling so angry at everything.

It was a known fact that Thor would soon become an heir for the throne now that his coming of age ceremony was just two weeks away. When they were children, Loki would remember Odin's gentle yet stern words, soft as cream and hard as steel, explaining what a king was. He would talk about the qualities, the requirements and how both brothers had the equal chance for the throne.

The god of mischief knew a lie when he heard it, it was frankly quite crystal clear that not one soul in Asgard expected the pale god to have a chance on the golden throne against Thor. And Loki was okay fine with the prejudice; he never wanted the throne and never needed it, because he didn't need people.

People didn't matter when he could make Odin happy by letting Thor shine by himself.

When he stared at the mirror, he saw a man, dark hair and colorless skin like ink on paper. Under the sun of Asgard, he was the only one with such complexion. He didn't mind being different, difference was good, he believed it made him special and all those insufferable fools who saw it as a freakish abnormality of nature were too much of imbeciles to appreciate that quality. At least that was what he told himself over and over again to make it seem okay when it was clear that he didn't belong in a lot of places.

It was okay, Loki supposed. Not fitting in was better than being alone.

So yes, ultimately he believed himself as being one of the most, if not the best and capable individual of Asgard, and no one could convince him otherwise. So why was he so frustrated? Why did he feel so inferior now? Why was he so damn against the idea of accepting Thor as Asgard's future king?

"Nothing is troubling me. I am not being dark." Loki lies through his teeth, it was easy to trick Thor because of his devoted trust misplaced in his little brother.

"Yes you are brother."

"Well, I am always dark Thor, if you think about it that way."

Thor twiddled his thumbs, "Well there is a good dark and bad dark for you."

"Now you are just being silly." The dark god tidies up his messed up hair with his fingers, pushing them back from his alabaster white forehead like he always did when he woke up from an unsatisfying sleep.

He gives one last look at a confused Thor who was questioning the concept of dark and darkness in his head, Loki pokes a playful finger on his brother's cheeks before going off to get himself presentable in the council.

* * *

Before entering the throne room for the afternoon council on Asgard's affairs, Loki stopped quietly in the corner of the corridors, fiddling with the daggers hidden under his decorative bracers. It was that time when he needed a motivational pep talk with himself before throwing himself out onto the bright shiny Asgardian council; Loki bid good luck to Loki as he quietly moved in through the four gated entrance of the golden throne room.

Voices could be heard from the centre of the dome like structure, speeches were made and opinions were being exchanged on how the affairs of Asgard would be run. Politics were an important aspect of the realm, which Thor was having a bad moment grasping it. He was putting an effort into it, but all the relationships from realms and the governing structure of Asgard was about to drive Thor up the wall.

Loki on the other hand found politics very intriguing. It was a field where his specialty in manipulating worked very well, and his closeness with the subject allowed Odin to acknowledge his presence in the council sessions. Today however was one of those days that Loki was having a bad pitch at, and considering his last past week and his foul mood, politics wasn't going to cheer him up anytime soon.

The young god's intentions were to slither quietly inside and take his place while drawing no attention to himself, but unfortunately much to his familiar dismay, all failed when Hogun, out of all the people who could actually talk, was the one who had to notice him and greet him with a short grunt and a nod that turned all eyes on the young prince immediately.

Odin himself, sitting sternly on his throne turned to share a gaze at his second son, Gungunir grasped tightly in his hand in his king-like glory. His father's eyes made Loki smile instantly, almost innocently as if to prove that he wasn't doing anything that would displease him.

"Fine day fath…"

"Loki, you are late." The Allfather's words cut in without warning, the silvertongue brushed stiffly against the edge of Loki's teeth for a few seconds before replying: "A new maidservant got lost in the west wing. I lent her my assistance with the directions, the poor thing."

His father's gaze locked onto his for a few seconds, nobody dared interrupt the conversation, especially when Thor was absent to repair the damage of atmosphere that usually resulted after the dialogue between the second prince and Odin.

Odin said nothing, merely staring at his son before gesturing him to take his place. Loki obeyed without saying anything else, words didn't work as well as he'd like when he was facing his father- he didn't have the confidence. It was not impossible to trick the Allfather unless what Loki came up with was total bullshit, as hard as it was Odin had his days when he allowed his second sons tricks and lies as long as it did not hurt anyone.

So far the only god who his tongue couldn't get through was Heimdall, who never even gave a moment to hear Loki out when he caught the younger god doodling stick men on the bifrost (Long story).

Ignoring the usual half way glances of the other gods attending the council, Loki stood with refined elegance on his place beside the throne with a few selected others. His slender frame and thin lines of his face usually worked to make him look frail and delicate, but over the years Loki learned how to present himself majestically when he wanted to, decorated with Asgardian gold and rich dark green.

Suppressing a yawn that escaped from his lips signaling his apparent need for sleep, the god keeps his head in a low angle to prevent anyone from noticing him dozing off. His near shut eyes are locked onto the corner of the throne room, staring at the nothingness as he avoided the eyes of his father while the council proceeded.

* * *

"Tell me what is on your mind, son."

It was more of a demand than a question, like how his father always sounded. However no matter how much it did not sound like a question, it was still asking for the contents of his thoughts, which was getting immensely repetitive for Loki of Asgard. The pale god was ready to retire as soon as the council was over in search for peace and silence, but Odin's question held him still as he was just about to leave.

Loki turned around to face his father, his face with a soft drawn smile lingering on his lips, the same mask he taught himself to wear around the Allfather. Perhaps one day, Odin would smile back.

"Nothing is on my mind, yet everything goes through my mind."

"No cryptic word games Loki. You are to answer with honesty. I let your reputation for trickery pass normally as long as it does not cause major harm, but lately you seem to be in a constant malicious mood, it worries me."

The pair of emerald green eyes give a hard stare at his father's face, that face and that expression that he has seen countless times, that face he used when he was saying something but was meaning another. If his father wished to play it this way then two can play that game, an unknown thread of anger rises at his father's painfully obvious intentions.

"My behavior has been no different from my usual self."

Shrugging his shoulders, Loki hid away that tiny little voice in his head that challenged the truth from his father.

"No, Loki." Odin denies, "No."

His son cringes silently in the inside, those familiar denying words. Those oh-so-never-changing denying words, those appalled sentences that he has heard all his life, it agitated him like no other. Not once his father has ever said yes, and frustration rises at every petty denial his father makes. He does not even allow a single chance for him to prove himself in his eyes, never willingly sees what he can do.

Thor makes Odin happier, prouder. That was why Loki always lost to Thor, he let Thor win in everything his father oversees just because that pleased Odin. Everything he could win against Thor he gave up the victory just to see his father pleased. He wasn't jealous, those emotions were beneath him- but frustration was evidently there, thick and hard against the cracks of his emotions.

If he wasn't even given a fair consideration, how could anyone be sure that Thor would be a better King than him? The harder he thought, his tendency to ask questions on his questions began muddling his thoughts up.

_So why am I so furious with all this? What is my problem? It is no big deal. Do I want to be King? No. Then why am I so angry with Thor?_

_I do not know._

That arrogant smile of his brother, that agitating huge pride of his, or that stupid grin on his face when he talked with him, which one? Loki was just so irritated. Calming himself down was an impressive feat of himself, Loki took a deep breath before pretending innocence. Odin continues at his son's oblivious act;

"I am getting many reports regarding your recent ventures Loki. Apparently in mere four days you have succeeded in utterly burning down Idun's garden, blasting away the Eastern block of the supply depots and apparently the well of echoes is now spurting up geysers of hot water. Do I need to mention the snakes in Freda's bedroom?"

Ah, the beautiful artwork compilation of his latest inspirations. With his continuing-to-decay-mood, Loki's mischief was slowly turning into malice. He stopped thinking about other people's feelings when he realized that no one really took his own seriously, always seen as the weakest link in the royal chains, shadowed by his brothers light and glory.

Giving up his every potential to allow Thor to shine in their fathers eyes, it slowly implied to others that he was incapable. Loki supposed this was to some degrees his own fault, but did not concern himself from petty matters like the usual quirky asshole he was. He loved being a jerk because if he was the one being a jerk, no one else could be a jerk to him.

"There are very good explanations for those father."

"Son, save me your untrue words."

"Ooh," Loki echoes lowly, intentional of the sarcastic effect. "You hurt my feelings father, how can you tell if I am lying or not?"

Odin gives him a stern look, "Loki." He echoes, Gungunir between his fingers glowing gently in its richest gold. Odin earns a sigh from his complicated son, who looks blankly back at him with no apparent emotions given up in his eyes.

"You know what I have done. Why I do them. Why do you ask me for what lingers in my mind if you already know father?"

"Because I am concerned for you."

Slowly, ever so slowly, the green eyed god arches his chin upwards, his eyes curved narrowly and looking down at his King. His father never changes, and Asgard never changes. _Concerned for_? Concerned of was the correct term. Loki quickly lets his chin down, not wanting to be seen as rudeness.

"I feel gratitude of your concern father." _But unneeded, _Loki swallowed his following words, for all his life reading his father and piecing himself to his liking, he knew when Odin was lying to him.

Lies bring lies, along a chain of lies follow. Those 'concern' that he talked of merely meant the concern of disrupting Thor's golden day, no matter how much Odin can elaborately decorate how he said it. How can one expect honesty from the other if he wasn't even being truthful? Loki grinned darkly at the irony.

"I suppose I have had some problems controlling myself recently. I sincerely apologize, father, and will head to the damaged sites and help repair tomorrow."

The pale god bows shortly, the Allfather says nothing when he just watches his second son show his back turned against him and walks away, his dark green cloak fluttering behind him like the feathered wings of a crow.

* * *

Loki dearly hoped that Frigga would mind how all the servants and task masters were asking him to pick out every single detail and layout of Thor's ceremony event, from the design on the floor tiles to each and every pattern, shape and color of the cups and curtains.

However much to his horrified dismay, Frigga seemed to be all out in approving, and even thought it was wonderful how brothers were best when it came to deciding what the other would like for an important day.

Loki of course couldn't think of any words to make Frigga change her mind, and now as long as he was in the available vicinity, people came running up to him every single random three minutes whenever and whatever he was doing to ask him what color, what food, what music, what decorations, what paintings and statues, what flowers, all sorts of questions that was starting to make him want to explode into a thousand tiny little smithereens there and now.

He felt a little foolish recommending what kind of shaped toilets would be best for the ceremony, a helpful Fandral who happened to be next to him suggested a naked mermaid shape in which Loki kindly rejected by making a few rats materialize in the swordsman's arse with a gentle smile on his face.

Surprisingly Loki was having no problem with the choices he made, answering the recommendations no matter how many there were. He could cause absolute chaos by recommending random and unlikely or dangerous things, but Loki had better sense than to sabotage his brother's birthday. The sensible choices he made were all genuinely what Thor would have chosen if given the thought, and even if Loki seemed like he was choosing out of pure whim, he was actually giving a considerable amount of thought into every detail.

Sif was pretty frank when she expressed her thoughts on how creepy it was that Loki knew his brother too well.

All Loki wanted now however, was some peace and quiet to tidy up his messed up mind, he was in no mood for discussing anything ceremony related. He understood that tradition required for ones kin to be the most enthusiastic for another's coming of age ceremony as they were the ones who gave the first blessing.

If one had no kin, than the blessing came from their parent- but Thor had Loki, so naturally it was expected of Loki to give him the first blessing and take responsibility of the event, no matter how much people were dismissive of the god of mischief, the silvertongue Loki.

However the sudden attention was rather badly timed for the young god, and very unwelcome in Loki's perspective, it was driving him mad. So when he saw Volstagg merrily trudging towards him on the other side of the corridors with a grin and a wave, Loki instinctively slapped on his smile and greeted him with a light tone: "Volstagg! I hear that a new kind of pork dish has been invented in the kitchen this morning, have you heard?"

And there went Volstagg, trudging past Loki with a brighter grin towards the kitchens. The pale god rolls his eyes, people are so predictable.

* * *

Thinking back, Loki had no idea what went wrong. Once upon a time he was just a child, who liked people entertained by his tricks and jokes. Once upon a time he just liked making people laugh, he was a stingy youth but knew what limits and lines he should not cross.

Then dawned an age where others became aware of how different he was from the normality of Asgard. His lack of physical art, his imagination and fondness of sorcery and trickery, the opposite values of what Asgardians held high. But He never minded the bullying of other children and what they called him, he always had a exceeding potential at ignoring things.

Besides, Thor was always present to block out the jeers directed towards his little brother, and Loki was quite amused by the fact that as long as he held a sad teary face with a hand on Thor's arms, it made sure that whoever was causing him distress received a good share of his golden brother's punches and tackles.

Loki snickered at the memory, slowly getting up from the giant roots of his favorite mother tree, standing proud and alone in the little isolated clearing inside the woods nearby Asgard's castle. The forest gently shakes along with the wind as if to cherish the fond little memories he had.

Lean fingers wave at the air, conjuring a staff like item with a curved spearhead on the end out of nothingness. He grips it tightly as father would Gungunir, stamping at the ground with the weapons flat end once before looking thoroughly at its unfinished design. It was only an item made out of illusion for the sole purpose of practice, and he never really did consider how it looked. Perhaps he could make it golden next time, or silver, Loki supposed he preferred gold.

He loved the color of Asgard. Yes, he cherished Asgard more than anyone, loved the realm like no other. Maybe because everything about Asgard was the opposite of him, because everything rejected his existence, Loki felt obsessed with his realm more than anything else.

Sometimes he envied Thor, always surrounded by all the glory of this realm, their people always happy and appreciative to see him. Once Loki made an effort to be a part of his world, to join him, his brother and share his shine. He forced himself onto the people, only what came around was mere disappointment and rejection.

Thor never realized what was wrong with this, he was never a person who lingered too much on results; he was a man who trusted in his impulse and desires. Where there was his own justified reason, Thor would always act and follow through head on. And he never came to understand other people's view on the acceptance of his brother.

Perhaps a few more centuries of my misery, Loki thought, would make him see sense.

The god of mischief lets out a soft sigh as he twirls his arms elegantly towards the leaves and branches scattered around, magic weaves the particles together with accurate shapes as they form almost man-like structures made of barks and leaves. Conjuring dummies always was his specialty, if he focused hard enough then Loki even managed to make exact replicas of himself that acted very much like him.

Satisfied with his wooden dummies, Loki held up his hand to his lips, flattening his palms and blew his breath. Dark green smoke illuminates form the tips of his breath, smearing and attaching themselves on the wooden puppets and awakening them to move. They are stiff at first, but their motion becomes smoother the next moment as if a man would move.

They turn their rectangular heads forward to their maker, and Loki assumes his aggressive position, eyeing his creations warily with his staff held in front of him. About twelve dozen eyeless tree men surround him in a circle, the sharp edges of their sticks act as their weapons. With deadly accuracy, Loki's arm lashes out in a perfect curve that thrusts out the daggers powerfully, the slim blade pierces through the air and lands on the weak joints of a far off tree man whose joints falter and ends up in crumbles on the ground.

Other tree men jump forwards, running towards the pale god with their makeshift weapons held up in front of him. Loki pays attention to his movement; he flutters like a butterfly to doge an attempted jab from his dummy opponent with exceptional grace using his staff to maneuver through the attacking dummies. He felt alive, the wind brushing between his hairs and relishing in the thrill of his made up battle.

His staff strikes another as it flies off, his agility working well with the structure of his body- it took about a decade for Loki to realize how he could use his physical size to his advantage. His speed made up for the lack of force, and the lack of endurance he trained harshly to improve. What he lacked in power he filled it in with his illusions and daggers.

It wasn't an ideal Asgardian way of battle, but Loki was confident to survive any battle if the need arises. His secretive training by himself has produced far greater results than what the trainers of the palace could ever provide with, what he was teaching himself wasn't an honorable fighting style, but he was leaning much more.

Dodging another quick series of slashing from his created opponent, Loki lands a sideways kick followed by another set of folded daggers that fly out in three ways. They all hit the target, a satisfied grin appears on Loki's face.

Ever since they were children, Thor could always fight. He put his peers to shame in the training grounds, he could even hold up against or sometimes win against youths that were older and bigger than him. He gained respect for his abilities in combat, and everyone, even the instructors admired the golden boy with every inch of respect they can afford.

Loki was always the one who would observe the training ring on the benches, a book between his fingers and only half paying attention to the other's squabbling fights and sparring. He never once participated in their game fights and battles, for one he rather preferred not to end up as a pathetic bloodied heap on the arena floor, and second he didn't like it when his nails got dirty.

But overall the reason he denied most of all was that they probably couldn't have taken him seriously anyway- he was always the weak one out of all of them. Loki the weakling, even punched by a girl and knocked out, the coward, the one who is never fit to be king, not even a prince.. A sharp emotion jabs at the side of his guts, Loki snarled as he thrust out his arm and violently clenched his fists in the air, causing one of his dummies head to incinerate, bursting into golden flames.

This spell wasn't an illusion. The flames cause pain along with his thick anger. The smell of burning leaves and wood cause the dark haired god to snap back to his reality, the fire extinguishes when Loki regains his cool. His breathing was steady but rough now, lumps of breath coming out in sharp staccatos from his piled up exhaustion and now only sheer determination remained to lock him into focus.

He envied Thor's powerful movements when he fought, the blunt and heavy movements that resonated with power. A rather embarrassing memory of his past is remembered, the one where he tried to mimic Thor's fighting style and ended up tripping over his own cloak. He was lucky that he was training alone secretly, or else the humiliation would've wanted to make hi dig up a hole and bury himself alive for a millennia.

Unlike Thor, Loki wasn't the one who always wanted to show off his capabilities,. Sometimes he was tempted to brag and show off if only to gain a tiny bit of respect from the others who thought of him as a worthless prince.

But he didn't. He never did… because he liked watching Thor shine by himself. He liked watching his brother win, and Loki always let Thor win. Even if he could sometimes out best Thor in a number of things using his own methods and wits, Loki always let the young god of thunder win. That way Thor will shine, and Odin will be satisfied, everyone is happier that way if he does not cause any tension or bring into the light any rivalry for the throne.

It was perhaps better if he was useless, but his pride would not allow that.

Blowing up another head of a dummy, Loki noticed that there were only three of his creations left now, their leaves rustling as they remained in position around the ebony haired god. Readying himself for another rush forward, Loki ignores the beads of sweat running freely down his cheeks. Just when he was about to charge however, a sharp hiss of pain dulls his mind and snaps him to alarm.

The sensor enchantment he casted over the perimeter of his clearing forced Loki to react sharply; the pale god quickly shoots out his arms and pushes his hand down on the air. In a blink the staff in his hands disappears, along with the men of leaves tumbling down all at once. With his magic gone, the wind scatters the remains of his training away into the forest.

Loki scrambles beside the giant roots of the mother tree and rolls himself down on the furred rug he put earlier, holding up a book and casually crossing his legs all in lightning speed as if used to doing this. When the familiar face with vivid summer blue eyes walks into the clearing, all Thor sees is the beautiful mother tree, the tree which dearly adored since he was a child.

And there sat Loki, lying on her roots with a book in his hand, seemingly reading but weirdly looking very uncomfortable. Thor approached his brother with a frown, the pale god's skin was heavily flushed with petals of red, and even if Loki was deliberately trying to hide his jagged breath, Thor was able to catch the unbalanced rhythm of his breathing. Not to mention the fountain of sweat he was pouring as if he just attempted a marathon around Asgard.

"Brother," Thor chuckled uneasily; gaining a sideways glance from Loki who was putting an effort to look idle. "You shouldn't be outside if you are feeling unwell. Have you a fever?"

Thor's worried question makes Loki shrug, his breath slowly returning to their original pace.

"No, I am not unwell brother, just tired. That is all."

"You look like you have just been fighting a dozen frost giants Loki, are you sure you are well?"

Loki nodded without an audible answer, twitching the corners of his lips to force an oblivious smile.

"I hope father was not so hard on you for being late."

"He was not." His answer was almost too casual, and Thor searched for anything that hinted his brother's discomfort in his bright green eyes.

"Thor really, my opinions do not really matter in the council anyway, I just observe."

"And that is amazing brother! I have no idea what all the bits and pieces are about council politics, but you understand it so easily."

There was genuine respect in Thor's eyes, and Loki learned a long time ago how sincere his brother was when he complimented his feats. He appreciated it, he appreciated everything about Thor, he adored his brother as much as he loved Asgard. To Loki, Asgard was Thor; Thor was where he cherished, the best, a place where he felt he rightly belonged.

But that fact also makes Loki hate himself, for being so reliant on his brother for every single excuse he creates to mask the truth of how he truly felt about everything, how at times he loathed, despised everything about this realm and its rejection towards who he was.

Growing up, Loki doesn't know if he much more hates or loves his brother for what he was like. He respected, envied, loved and loathed. Thor was everything he would have wanted to become like, the ironic fact that Thor would even compliment him about anything seemed so much like a lie that Loki almost wished it was a big fat lie.

But the god of thunder never lies. His words true and always sincere, honesty always walked side by side with him. Of course, sometimes he could be so inappropriately honest such as the time when he straight forwardly blurted out to Sif that she looked fat in her brand new leather tunic when asked for comments.

It left Sif in a foul mood for a few days, and Thor apologizing on his knees in front of her axe.

"I didn't know you still come to this place." Thor muttered rather quietly when he saw Loki spacing off in his own thoughts again, face blank and empty. His brother puts down his book, replying almost serenely: "Best place for meditating."

Thor scrunched up his face as if to say 'Eww'.

"Meditating isn't as bad as it sounds Thor."

Loki allowed his brother to sit himself close beside him, his big framed body brushing warmly against his body as their shoulders met.

"Thor, you are not me, you lack tact. Now is a good time to admit the reason you came to see me deliberately." The pale god said it in such toneless manner, as if it was such a damned obvious thing that Thor instinctively looked down at his chest to see if it was written on his body somewhere- and frowned.

His expression was amusing, Thor was always so readable- everything about him was obvious.

This clearing used to be their hideout a very long time ago when they were just little children, back when it was just the two brothers against everything else, back before Loki realized that his brother was destined for another league than him. Naturally as Thor began to mix himself with those much more alike to himself, Loki accepted that perhaps this was for the better for his brother, and let himself drift apart.

So it was just unnatural that Thor would suddenly show up here, of all places out of random chance. Loki searched the other's face for answers and Thor slowly admitted his intentions with a low voice: "Brother… if the cause of whatever distress you are having lately is because of my ceremony…"

He fades off in uncertainty, hinting the rest and expecting his brother to pick up the meaning. Loki blinks a few times, sitting up straighter.

"Thor, I am alright."

"You are always bothered these days, throwing more of your notorious temper around (Loki frowned), and…"

"And?"

"You know you have been avoiding me for the past week."

Opening his lips to retort, the god of mischief hears no voice coming out of his mouth. Blinking foolishly, he realizes what he said was true. Loki has been avoiding his brother for the whole week. He can lie to himself all he wanted and claim that it was his usual behavior, but the truth never changes no matter how distorted with lies it was.

What was his problem? Why was he so frustrated? So unhappy? Why did he feel so negative towards the upcoming ceremony? It was Thor's birthday, he should be happy for him, the happiest out of anyone.

Loki just wanted to disappear.

"Well Thor, if you think perceptively I tend to avoid everyone in this realm." He answered tunelessly, voice monochrome after failing to think what he should sound like when he was telling the truth.

"You can avoid everyone else all you want Loki, but you should not be avoiding me. In fact, I miss the days when you used to clingy."

Loki scowled. "I was not clingy."

"Yes you were. I could still recall the days when you needed me to hold onto when we walked the corridors at night." Thor smiles with that goofy grin of his, the kind of grin that dumbed Loki down.

"That was like when I was a baby, Thor."

"Still clingy, brother. My little clingy brother." Thor laughed, his voice rich and musky, king like and so much familiar with his father, Odin. Loki crossed his arms in reply, not so amused and stoic showing on his face.

"I am glad you find my past embarrassment very entertaining Thor, I am practically rolling on the floor in mirth." Humorless statement sounds as dry as his emotionless pit of an heart, but Thor was always very good at pouring colors into his emotional painting.

Loki yelps loudly when he feels two strong arms sliding under his shoulders and lifting him up, he instinctively struggles as if fearing a fall. Loki flails out before landing with his back against his brother's chest, a rich fragrance of sweet hay and straws wafting over his senses. Thor playfully nuzzles his chin on his pale brother's head, chuckling heartily when Loki elbows him in the ribs, softly enough not to hurt but hard enough to sting.

The elder brother does not mind much, and eases when Loki makes no effort to move away.

"I am not clingy." Loki states, his words flat but pleasant.

Thor was always warm, like the rays of the Asgardian sun. And as Loki closes his eyes, he realizes how great his affections were for his brother, all coldness washing away from his veins if only for a instance. And then guilt fills up his veins, like wildfire it scorches at his raw throat.

There was no way he could refuse his part in Thor's ceremony now, unless something seriously unfortunate happened to him that no one expected to happen.

Loki suddenly felt his mind wake up with a snap,

_Something very unfortunate…_

* * *

**A/N: **I try to keep commentaries to a minimum when posting fics, so hopefully people won't have to put up with long extensive author's comments.

One thing I would like to mention is the Loki that I am writing. I thought very hard about his character and what he would think like as a god so twisted, and I thought hey, maybe this could work too and decided to improvise. So it may not be everyone's ideal and usual Loki, so **I appreciate everyone who have read this fiction and thank you sincerely.**

+Added: Fixed up most of the terrible grammar mistakes, results of typing at 4am in the morning. Typo point outs are always appreciated. / just on a side note, this fiction is not set on movie verse, the story takes place a bit before the coronation.


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